#LookingForAlaska

He was absolutely dynamic.  A lightning burst of energy in a compact form.  He was only about 5'3 with a shock of spikey, dyed-red hair, freckles, and thick glasses.  His voice made up for his average looks, however.  He sang like an angel.  A single note escaping his mouth would attract the attention of everyone within a five mile radius.  His vocal chords never rested; he'd sing, and sing, and sing, until he was out of breath, and when that happened he would refill his lungs and keep on singing.  His voice was stronger than the most gifted operatic star.  He would belt out the words to some romantic ballad as his nimble fingers danced over his piano, seemingly floating over the keys but hitting them in a way that made women weak in the knees.  He played that piano almost as well as he played women.  They'd fall for his voice and his charm and his wit but he'd just cast them to the side.  What he was waiting for, no one knew.

The harsh truth of loving someone as dynamic as him was that he could never put all of that vitality into loving me in return.  He followed me throughout my middle school and high school years, like a ghost: always there but never close enough.  He flew so high and I devoted too much time to trying to pull him back down.  If only he could be with me.  

He used me as his rock but when I moved in he would float away, shifting slightly just enough so I could excuse it.  Of course, he acted like an older brother to me, teaching me the ways of life and such things, but I craved him as more than a mentor.  He planted me, watered me, grew me, and acted as my lifesource.  I wanted him to love me not as a petulant, naive, younger sister, but as an equal.

Eventually, though I am not quite sure what happened, he began to drift higher up.  I couldn't reach him on my tip-toes.  He defied gravity: what went up could never come down again.  As he floated away, he took other girls with him, but never me.  Of course I was distraught, I couldn't imagine a life without him.  He was all my time, my energy, my focus.  I put my heart into keeping him down and when he left without so much as a wind whisper, I was empty.  

Getting over him took days, weeks, months, years.  When he finally passed from my mind, it felt as if the skies were cleared.  I could breathe easier, I felt lighter.  

One day, many years later, I received a friend request from him on Facebook and I humored it because sometimes it's fun to revisit the past.  We soon got to talking over the Messenger app and eventually the question came up: "Why did you leave me all those years ago?"

"I flew too close to the sun."